


As You Wish

by MissChrisDaae



Category: Princess Bride (1987), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Bride Fusion, Awesome Jane Foster, BAMF Sif, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Loki being an asshole, Thor Feels, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissChrisDaae/pseuds/MissChrisDaae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the apparent death of the only man she will ever love, Jane finds herself the unwilling bride-to-be of the kingdom's icy hearted crown prince, whose interest in her is almost as unnerving as the man himself.<br/>Before the wedding can take place, Jane finds herself in the hands of three kidnappers, her life in danger, and a mysterious figure in black pursuing them.<br/>Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Revenge. Giants. Monsters. Chases. Escapes. True love. Miracles. What more does a story need?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_irish_mayhem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_irish_mayhem/gifts).



Jane dismounted Tycho, her soft brown eyes straying over to the woodshed, where her father’s ward was still diligently at work, swinging an axe to split logs apart. It never took him more than one stroke to halve them perfectly, and she jiggled the reins until he looked up at her. “When you’re finished, I want you to tend to Tycho. I think he might have hurt himself.”

Heshouldered the axe, and gave her a little bow of his head, his stormy blue eyes never leaving her face. “As you wish,” he said, his voice soft and deep, like the rumble of thunder. Jane led her horse back into the one stall of the barn before going into the farmhouse.

Her father had brought him to the farm before Jane was born, and had never told Jane anything about him, not even his name. What was more, the farm boy, as most people called him, only ever spoke those three words when he was in Jane’s presence. Even when speaking to Jane’s father in the same room.

After her father had died, Jane had expected there to be some increase in the farm boy’s speech, but he only held her gently in his arms as she wept when they buried the body, and remained his usual taciturn self. No matter what she asked of him, the only thing he would ever say to her was that one phrase. _As you wish._  
She pushed it to the back of her mind, focusing instead on their midday meal, and remained so until she heard him knocking on the frame of the door. "Will you come with me to town tomorrow?" she asked, passing him the plate of food. "Winter's on its way, I don't want you to catch cold."

He smiled softly at her offer before nodding, and his lips moved to form the usual words. And then, something astonishing happened. Instead of 'as you wish,' what Jane heard instead was 'I love you.’

It drove her mad the rest of the day, so much that she almost forgot to bring him his supper that evening. And then, rather than sleep, she sat by the window, staring up at the stars, seeking some kind of answer, but the stars revealed nothing. Her mind was completely filled by thoughts of his smile, of his eyes, his strength and warmth… She had no word for it but love, and yet how pathetic could it be to suddenly feel so deeply, and not even know his name!

Three days she went on in such a state, distracted to the point where she was barely able to focus on her chores around the farm, until she could bear it no longer. And so, on the fourth day, she was up with the dawn and standing in the door of the farm boy’s hut so that he was faced with her the minute he stepped outside.

“I need an answer from you,” she blurted out, causing his brow to furrow even deeper. “All my life, I have only heard three words from you, and yet suddenly those words changed, and I changed with them.” She grabbed him by the wrist, looking up into those eyes that were the blue of the sky in the very center of a storm. “I love you. That is the only answer I can think of, that or I’m going mad and I don’t _feel_ mad—”

He laughed. A full, rich sound that rumbled through him, so much that she could feel it under his skin where she was touching him. “I had hoped you would hear me one day.” The awe Jane felt at hearing him speak something other than those three words was overshadowed more by the realization that every time he had ever spoken to her, all he had ever said to her was _I love you._ Taking the collar of his shirt in her hands, she pulled him down to her height, pressing her mouth to his.

She tasted rain on his lips, and leaned deeper into the embrace as she felt his free hand reach up to cradle her head, his fingers slipping into her hair. Her own hands rose to trace his face, every angle and plane, the soft fuzz of the beard on his cheeks. She memorized every detail and grew to love each of them in an instant. When they finally separated to breathe, all she could think to say was, "may I know your name _now_?"

He laughed again and nodded. "Thor, Jane. My name is Thor."

"Thor," she repeated breathlessly, drinking in the single syllable that had suddenly become the most beautiful sound in the whole of creation. "Will you kiss me again?"

He wrapped one broad arm around her waist and lifted her up to eye level. "As you wish," he murmured, bringing their lips together once more.

The weeks that followed were the happiest Jane had ever known. She was never far from Thor, and now that she had heard him clearly, they talked every day for hours on end, until she knew everything about him and he about her. But with so little money as they had, marriage was not yet a possibility, and so, Thor took a place on a merchant ship that was set to depart within the month.

"It was a moment like this when I first realized I loved you," he murmured into her hair. It was the night before Thor was due to set sail, and they were nestled together in the thatch of the farmhouse roof, Thor's arms forming a warm cocoon around Jane's tiny form. "I was... I cannot be certain, but I think I was ten, and you were seven. Your father had put you to bed, but you snuck out and climbed up here. I saw a comet streak across the sky, and suddenly, to me, it was as though you were made of starlight itself. I wanted nothing more in the world than to have you smile at me the way you did that night."

"And have you done that?"

"Aye, and more besides." He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "And it was well worth the wait.” Jane hummed, settling deeper into his embrace as his fingers brushed against her cheek. “Is something wrong?”

“You leave tomorrow. I know I shouldn't, but I fear I'll never see you again. It's just... a feeling."

"Jane." Thor removed his arms from her for a moment and pulled a leather thong from his neck. Dangling from it was a shining silver triquetra. He placed it over her head, shortening the cord so the pendant rested above her heart. "Hear this now. I will always come for you. Fate brought us together, and no one can never keep us apart."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I have you." He kissed her forehead. "And we have this. True Love, Jane. What we have, what we feel, that sort of thing doesn't happen every day.”

“You have to come back,” she begged. “Please, please, whatever else happens, come back to me, I don’t care about anything else.”

"As you wish," Thor promised. They didn't bother to leave the roof, but instead lay there the rest of the night, clasped in one another's arms. When the sun broke through the horizon, Thor rose, pressing one last kiss to Jane's forehead, and then her lips, and climbed down from the roof, grabbed the bag containing his few belongings and set out. Jane stood on the roof, watching and waving as he grew smaller and smaller in her sight until she couldn’t see him at all.

She received letters from him every day, giving her every detail of what he was doing, where he was traveling, everything, and she treasured every one of them, grateful that they both knew how to read and write, a rare thing in their little town. And then, the letters stopped. There was no warning, no explanation, no indication of why. She waited three days without any word until, unable to bear the silence a moment longer, she went into the village, hoping someone would have some kind of answer. 

The minute she set foot in the village square, people started looking at her with the most awful pity. _Everyone._ Isabelle, the tavern owner was the only one to move towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I am so sorry, Jane.”

“Sorry for what?” she asked sharply. “What’s going on?”

“Did no one come to tell you?” Her expression grew far more stricken. “The news arrived yesterday…”

“What happened, Isabelle? _Tell me!”_

“He’s gone.” Jane turned to see Donald, the apothecary’s son. “Your farm boy got himself killed.”

“You’re lying.” Jane backed away. She would have felt it if Thor was dead, she would have known—

“Am I? His ship was attacked by _Surtur_ , it was seen going down by the vessel that gave us the news. And you know Surtur doesn’t take prisoners.”

The name was enough to turn Jane’s blood to ice. Of course she knew that. _Everyone_ knew of the Dread Pirate Surtur, a bloody legend of a man, who never left any survivors on the vessels he attacked. And then, the ice was replaced by fury as she balled her fist and struck Donald across the jaw before running the entire way back home. Locking the door behind her, she flung herself on the bed, curling into as small a ball as she could and sobbing as she clutched at the necklace he had given her.

“I will never love again,” she whispered.

And she never did.


	2. The Groom

The Crown Prince Loki was built like a whip. He was very tall and very slim, with dark hair, and taut, wiry muscles. His face was very angular and sharp, and his eyes a cold shade of green. Many ladies agreed that he might have been handsome had it not been for his disdainful demeanor, but Loki remained both cold and exceedingly selfish.

He could be quite charming when the mood suited him, but he found so few people worthy of his time that such a thing was a rare occurrence. Loki was exceedingly clever and quick witted, earning him the name Silvertongue. Few liked to converse with him because of it. People disliked being humiliated, and Loki loved to humiliate people, which made him all the more haughty.

He was on his second marriage. The first time, it had been his flame-haired mistress, Angrboða, whom his father the King had disliked immensely. That may have been part of why Loki married her, but as his wife delivered stillborn after stillborn, his interest began to wane rapidly. After the third child was born not only dead, but grotesquely deformed, he became repulsed. Gone was the vivacious, sultry woman he had first desired, replaced by a wretched, gaunt-looking creature he could barely stand to look at. Not two days after losing her third child and only daughter, the princess Angrboða was found dead in her chambers, and Loki presented the façade of a grieving widower.

Of course, a prince who will one day be king still requires heirs, and Loki married again, this time a far more docile lady from a neighboring kingdom. She had not wanted to marry him, but it was made clear that she had no choice. Loki had spent that wedding night enduring the tears of his new bride as he breached her. He grew bored of her fairly quickly, but allowed her to continue when it was announced that she was carrying a child. However, rather than spend more time with his wife, Loki elected to distance himself from her, instead devoting his time to his hobbies.

Loki only had one person at court he considered worthy of being his friend, the Count Svadilfari. Ten years Loki’s senior, the Count was similar in appearance, sometimes to the point where foreigners would mistake him for the Prince, something Loki found highly amusing. But Svadilfari’s eyes were deep, fathomless black, and, despite his relative youth, there was already grey leaking into the ebony of his hair.

The interest that Loki and Svadilfari shared was their fascination with pain, though Loki preferred to inflict it, and Svadilfari to study it. For this reason, the two of them had been given charge of the prisoners kept in the palace dungeons, all of whom Loki had moved to a private building of his own creation that he called his Menagerie.

From the outside, the Menagerie seemed ordinary enough, a simple stone structure, but this was because most of it was underground. Within those subterranean floors, Loki kept not only the prisoners his father had given him, but an assortment of exotic and terrifying creatures. Everything from venomous serpents to bloodthirsty wolves— if it was lethal, Loki found a place for it in the Menagerie. 

Among the common people, Loki’s Menagerie was the sort of thing parents told their children about at night, to keep their sons and daughters well behaved. Servants were terrified of displeasing the Crown Prince for fear that he would punish them by adding them to his collection. The only ones permitted to set foot in the Menagerie were Loki, Svadilfari, and, on  occasion, Loki’s two younger brothers, Helblindi and Býleistr. Both of the younger princes were terrified of their elder brother’s private fascination, and Loki used their fear of it to keep both of them thoroughly under his thumb.

He was in the midst of examining the latest snake he had collected when the Count entered the study. Svadilfari stood by the door, clearing his throat until Loki looked up, an eyebrow raised expectantly. “What?”

“I must regret to inform you that I bring ill tidings regarding your wife.”

“ _Must_ you be so formal, Svad, we are in private,” Loki drawled, setting the serpent back into the box in which it had been delivered. “What is it?”

Svadilfari sighed, shaking his head. “The princess did not survive the twins’ birth, I’m afraid. And both boys died shortly thereafter.”

“Twin boys,” Loki repeated, unsheathing his favorite dagger and flinging it expertly into the center of the stone wall before him. “Both dead?”

“Yes.”

“And Sigyn?” There was no affection in the way Loki spoke his second wife’s name, only an exceedingly mild curiosity.

“Named them with her last breath. Váli and Narvi.”

“Wonderful, something to put on the grave markers,” Loki deadpanned, rising and striding over to pull the dagger from the wall. “I suppose this means I shall have to marry for a third time, doesn’t it?”

“If you want to fulfill your obligations to carry on your family line, it would seem so.”

“Tch.” Loki clucked his tongue disdainfully. “Noble women, Svad, are not made to bear me proper heirs, it would seem.”

“I suppose such a thing is possible,” the Count agreed, keeping one eye on the snake. In things like this, it was best to go along with whatever Loki said, particularly when he had one of his pets on hand. “Do I take it this means you want—”

“A common woman,” Loki finished. “Yes. And I daresay Father might actually approve. The people would be ridiculously enthusiastic about the idea of one of their own becoming Queen one day. _Someone who understands them_ ,” he mocked. “As if that’s the Queen’s purpose.”

“Shall I take care of it?”

“Yes. But this time? Make sure to choose someone I will actually be able to tolerate. Particularly regarding bedding her. I am in no mood to endure tears again.”

“Very well, your highness.” Svadilfari bowed formally. “I think I might have the perfect candidate in mind." 

“Really?” Loki turned to look at him with a slow, predatory smile. “Do tell me more.”


	3. The Courtship

It had been two years since Jane had received the news of Thor’s death, and the hole his loss had left in her soul still cut deep. Oh, she went about her life, she had to. But everything was hollow now. She could not even bear to be near the little hovel that had been his for almost the entirety of her life. His pendant, however, never left her neck. She couldn’t bear to remove it.

The people of the village grew to know better than to talk to Jane about Thor. Ever since the incident with Donald, the men of the village gave her a wide berth. Most women were sympathetic towards her, but they didn’t talk to her about it. And Jane found she preferred the silence to the condolences, sincere though they might have been.

So, when two riders approached the farm one morning, she became more than a little alarmed, and backed up against Tycho fearfully. They both cut very menacing figures, all pale skin, dark hair and sharp features, that made them look like they were staring into the very core of her being. One of them pushed his black charger forward until he was barely three feet from her and dismounted.

He was almost of a height with Thor, looming over her and staring down at her with a pair of sharp green eyes. Jane’s hand reached up to clutch at Tycho’s mane for some kind of anchor. “I am your prince,” he told her, his voice sharp and cold. “And you will marry me.”

“I am your servant, your highness,” Jane said softly, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “And I refuse.”

“That was not a request,” the Prince said, taking a step closer to her.

“I am aware of that, your highness,” she replied, “but that does not change my answer.”

“Refusal means death.”

“Then kill me.”

“Why?” He reached out and touched her face, and she shuddered, pulling away from him. “You do understand what it is I am offering, don’t you? The chance to have everything you could ever want?”

“No one can ever give me what I want.”

“Jane… That is your name, is it not?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Tell me, Jane, what is it you find so repulsive about me? Do you think it would be so bad to be a princess?”

“It has nothing to do with being a princess, your highness, and everything to do with marriage. I don’t know what the case is for princes, but I believe marriage requires love. I had that once, and then I lost it. After that, I swore I would never love again.”

He laughed at that. "My dear, I can assure you, love has no place in any of this. A kingdom must have a king, and a king must have an heir. At the moment, both are supplied. The kingdom has my father, and my father has me. But the day is approaching when my father will no longer be king, and I will be. When that happens, I will require an heir of my own, and to do that, I will require a queen. And you have been rather highly recommended by my friend the Count over there.”

“I have nothing to offer your highness.”

“But I have two very different offers to make to you. The first is that you accept my suit, become my princess and, eventually, my queen, and have your every whim granted. The second, you refuse and not only will I have you executed for treason, but I will do so in the slowest, most painful way possible. I believe you have heard of my Menagerie, have you not?” Jane blanched, and he smirked at her. “Ah, so you have. So, what is your decision?”

“I’ll never love you.”

“I wouldn’t want your love even if you gave it to me.”

“Then I accept.”

 


	4. The Betrothal

For three years, Jane endured learning how to be a proper princess, being ridiculously pampered and dressed like some kind of a doll, and she hated every moment of it. She saw very little of Loki, which suited her fine. Every time she saw him, and those eerie green eyes were upon her, she felt shivers run through her, cold, unnerving shivers that made her miss Thor all the more greatly. She remembered how looking at him had warmed her from the inside, and to her horror, with each passing day and each new thing she was forced to learn, some memory of him began to fade from her mind.

She still remembered the sunlit gold of his hair, the crinkles that appeared whenever he had smiled, the smell of rainwater that went with him wherever he had gone, and the stormy blue of his eyes. But other things were harder to recall, like what it had felt like when he laced his fingers with hers, replaced with Loki brushing his cold lips to the back of her hand instead. Nights on the thatched roof nestled in Thor’s arms were usurped by sleepless hours in a soft bed that probably could have fit ten of her.

Loki refused to let Jane leave the palace grounds until the betrothal was officially announced to the people. Furthermore, it seemed she was always being chaperoned, whether by a flurry of maids, the Queen, or Loki himself, and it drove her mad. She would have given anything, anything at all for a moment that would let her feel like she wasn’t trapped. But the silk dresses, and the stone walls, and the feather bed all remained, all smothering her, closing in on her, caging her.

Not a day went by when she didn’t regret accepting Loki’s offer, but the terror of the Menagerie was instilled too deeply in her. And it had, at some point, occurred to her that, were Loki to get rid of her, he would simply find another unfortunate woman to suffer in her place. So, she endured him, however much he frightened her.

Three months before the five hundredth anniversary of the kingdom, Loki deemed her ‘acceptable’and ordered the palace gates open. The courtyard was flooded, packed with everyone who could make their way, all fascinated by the mysterious new bride the Crown Prince was to take. 

Jane was kept waiting at the palace door to the courtyard by the Count and the younger Princes as Loki stepped out onto the balcony with the King and Queen. She couldn’t hear what Loki was saying to the crowd, but she didn’t care. She knew better than to trust anything Loki ever said. “Walk,” Svadilfari hissed in her ear. “He just announced you, now walk.”

Jane did as she was told, slowly and mechanically putting one foot in front of the other as she walked out into the crowd. Everyone parted to make way for her, sinking down to their knees, and she could practically feel Loki’s smug grin, even from a distance. There were people in this crowd who had known her once, and now she felt a complete stranger, draped in gold and purple silks, a shining gold circlet braided into the silky brown curtain of her hair. Loki may as well have killed her for all the parts of her that had been changed to better suit him. Even this moment was him, a manipulation of the people to make them feel she was still one of them, that they were connected to her somehow.

As she was called back into the palace, Jane failed to notice something in the far corner of the courtyard limits: A man, dressed entirely in black, his face masked and his form hidden in the shadows. Like everyone else, he was watching the future princess, but not with joy or awe. No, his eyes were flashing with something else entirely, something deadly and cold and electric.

* * *

The day after her presentations to the masses, Jane was finally allowed outside the palace, She took full advantage of her newfound freedom and was up at first light, taking Tycho from the stables and riding him as far and as fast as she could. The wind whipped her unbound hair into a frenzied mess and she had worn a far simpler dress than the ones Loki preferred she wear, and the defiance was exhilarating.

She rode for hours, not slowing down, not stopping, just drinking in the glory of the fresh air, the sky, the forest, all of it. “My lady?” She pulled Tycho to a halt at the voice calling out to her.

Standing on the side of the road was a rather odd, motley sort of trio. In the middle stood a man with skin even paler than Loki’s, with long white hair and eerie, pale blue eyes. On his right stood a slender, tanned, muscular woman with fine features and very long black hair. Shewas dressed in a man's shirt and breeches, with a rather fine looking sword at her hip. On the pale man’s other side, there was a second man, slightly shorter, his soft brown hair curling and his arms wrapped tightly around his chest, as though he were very cold, or very frightened of something.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’m afraid we’ve lost our way. Perhaps you might be able to show us the way to a nearby town?”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing nearby here for miles,” Jane told him.

“Banner,” the pale man’s voice resounded in a deep booming tone of command, and the curly haired main looked at Jane apologetically before unfolding his arms and breathing deeply. Jane gasped as he grew to twice the size of a normal man, and his skin took on an emerald tone. All it took was one of his hands around her waistand he lifted her up easily. Jane screamed, trying desperately to wriggle free, but his grip was too strong. The woman approached, producing a rope and binding Jane’s wrists tightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jane demanded, still struggling, though it was now with the woman. The green man had shrunk back down to a normal size, but the woman’s grip was equally firm, and Jane was smaller and weaker, especially after three years of being made into a princess. “Let go of me!”

“Get her on board,” the pale man ordered, and the woman nodded, moving her grip to Jane’s biceps and leading her down to the nearby dock, where a small ship was waiting. Jane gave another useless tug in an attempt to get away, but the woman’s hold stayed tight. “And gag her.”

“Why are you—” Jane’s question was cut off by the woman tying a gag around her mouth.

“Would it not have been simpler to knock her out?” the woman complained as she pushedJane on board.

“Hush,” the pale man ordered, taking some kind of fabric and cutting a piece of it to put under Tycho’s saddle before kicking the poor horse roughly. Tycho whinnied and bolted, Jane watching in mute horror.

“What was that?” the green man, Banner, asked as he and the pale man boarded the ship.

“Fabric from the uniform of a soldier of Njord,” the pale man answered smugly.

“And who is Njord?”

“The King of the country across the sea. His granddaughter was the Prince's second wife, and none of his house has been fond of Loki since he took that girl. When the horse reaches the palace, the fabric will make the Prince believe it was Njord behind the abduction. And when he finds his beloved's corpse on Njord's lands, he'll be furious."

"You never said anything about killing an innocent woman."

"How else did you expect us to start a war?"

"Bruce has a point. It's not honorable," the woman interjected. "Even for your purpose, Malekith."

"When I want your opinion, I will ask for it. If you're so worried about your precious honor, rest assured that _I_ will be the one to kill her. Now, get us on our way," Malekith ordered. The woman fixed him with a very stony look before going to stand next to Banner at the helm. Jane attempted to wiggle the gag out of her mouth, and loosen her bonds, but to no avail. Frowning at her, Malekith walked over and pinched her neck. The effect was immediate and blackness swallowed her up.

* * *

When she awoke, it was night time, the full moon high overhead, and they were out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Someone had taken the gag out of her mouth, much to her relief. The woman came over, holding out a large piece of a loaf of bread to her. "You can eat it even with your hands bound," she said softly. "And you may need your strength tomorrow."

"Strength for you to kill me?" Jane asked, taking the bread from her all the same and biting into it hungrily. All manners were completely gone at this point, and the woman sat down, watching her. 

"I don't know what I expected, but I don't believe it was you," she said quietly.

"Enough, Sif," Malekith barked sharply. "Get back here, now."

Malekith, Sif and Bruce. Jane had their names now. But why they thought killing her would make Loki start a war, or even care, was beyond her. Even if he did care, for no other reason than saving face in front of the people, he wasn't stupid enough to fall for that kind of a ruse. As Sif walked away, Jane spotted a nail lying on the deck of the ship, and leaned forward to pick it up. Twisting it in her hands so that the point was facing towards her, she started quietly sawing at the ropes around her wrists, being sure to keep her head down. 

"Why are you doing that?" For a moment, Jane panicked, worrying she was about to be caught, but it was Sif who answered.

"I want to make sure no one's followed us."

"That would be absolutely inconceivable," Malekith scoffed. "The Prince could not have caught up to us so quickly, and no one knows our plans."

"Bruce, come here..."

"Will you cease worrying? This will all be over soon."

"Malekith, she's right, there's someone following us—" Jane heard nothing else, because at that moment, she managed to break the ropes and free her hands, diving into the water.

" _Fools!_ " Malekith shouted. "She cannot die out here!" _Then it's well that I can swim,_ Jane thought to herself, swimming as fast as she could. An eerie wail pierced the night, and she stopped, looking back at the ship. Malekith sneered at her. "How well do you know the stories of the sea, Princess? Do you know of the Shrieking Eels?"Jane's heart leapt into her throat, hammering heavily. Of course she knew about them, but Malekith seemed determined to twist the knife further. "They have a very keen sense of smell. In fact, I daresay they've noticed you."

Something slithered against Jane's leg and it took everything in her not to scream. She was going to die. She was going to be devoured in the middle of the sea. On the one level, she was terrified, but she also felt an odd sense of relief. If she died here and now, not only would her home hopefully be safe from war, but she'd be free of Loki forever and reunited with Thor. She breathed deeply, preparing herself for the eel to strike. She heard the shriek, but it was followed by a roar and the viridian fist of Bruce's giant form striking the eel and pulling her from the water.

"Give her here." Malekith wrenched Jane away and lashed her hands together once more before hooking them around one of the knobs on the mast. "That was foolish of you, child," he told her.

"Does it matter where I die?"

"Perhaps not to you, but it does to me."

"He's gaining on us!" Sif yelled from the stern.

"Sail on, we have a head start already. Banner, make sure the Princess doesn't do anything stupid again. I want to be at the cliffs by dawn."

Bruce had returned to an ordinary size once more, and pulled up a crate, sitting in front of her with a very sad face. "Who was it you lost?" he asked softly.

"Excuse me?" Jane looked at him in surprise.

"I know the look in your eyes. You've lost someoneyou loved."

"It... it doesn't matter anymore," Jane lied, looking away from him. "You have to know you're going to be caught. The prince doesn't take kindly to other people touching what he considers his."

"Malekith has his reasons, Princess." They were silent for the remainder of the journey, until the first watery rays of sunlight, when Bruce released her wrists, only to tie them in front of her again.

"We're here," Malekith gloated. "The Cliffs of Insanity stand before us." Jane looked up in awe at the thousand feet of solid rock, a single white rope snaking up the very center. Surely they didn't mean to climb it...

"He's right on top of us!" Sif shouted as she steered them towards the Cliffs.

"It matters little, he'salready too late, whoever he may be," Malekith scoffed. "Only Banner has the strength to go our way." Jane glanced over her shoulder at the other ship, manned only by a figure in black. A shock ran through her body, and she stumbled back into Sif's arms.

"This way, Princess." Sif led her off the boat while Malekith fitted an odd leather harness around Bruce. It seemed too big until Bruce swelled to his other form. They put Jane in the back circle, her bound arms wrapped around the creature's neck. Sif was on the left, and Malekith the right. With a loud grunt, Bruce began to pull them up the rope.

Jane clenched her fists to the point where her knuckles were turning white. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the top kept drawing nearer and nearer, and then she heard Sif.

"He's climbing the rope. And he's gaining on us."

"Inconceivable," Malekith breathed. Jane couldn't look down. If she did, she knew she would scream, and she did not want to startle Bruce and cause them all to fall. "FASTER!"

"I _am_ faster," the creature growled gruffly.

"You were supposed to be the strongest creature alive, a thing of legend! And yet he gains on us!"  


"I have more weight."

"I do not accept excuses, Banner, when this job is done, I'm going to find myself a new monster."

Banner growled, making no obvious attempt to accelerate their pace, but they soon reached the top. Sif wriggled free, and pulled herself onto the summit, then unhooking Jane and Malekith. "Change back now, Bruce," she coaxed gently. "You did so well, come on now, let's get you up." There was a groan, and a moment later, Bruce's normal-sized hands reached over the top for Sif to pull him up.

"Cut the rope," Malekith ordered. Sif drew her sword and brought it down, slicing through the rope in one stroke. Jane watched as it slithered down and off the cliff's edge, wincing in anticipation of the crash. Her expectations were only met with silence. Slowly, Sif and Bruce went to the edge and looked down.

"He's got... very strong arms," Bruce said in amazement as Malekith joined them.

"He didn't fall? Inconceivable!"

" _Stop saying that!_ " Sif yelled, whirling on him furiously. "You keep using that word, but I don't think it means what you think it means! It was _in-con-ceiv-able_ that anyone could be following us, and yet, when we turned around, the man in black was there. It was _in-con-ceiv-able_ that he could climb the rope, and he started gaining on us! Now it is _in-con-ceiv-able_ that he did not fall, and _look! He's climbing!_ "

"This changes nothing. He's seen us with the Princess, therefore he has to die. Banner, you will change back and carry her. Sif. Wait here, make sure he dies. If he falls, fine. If not, the sword."

"I want to do him left handed."

" _Left handed_? We're in a hurry!"

"But I won't be satisfied otherwise."

"Fine, fine, have it your way, just make certain he ceases breathing!"

* * *

Sif paced the top of cliff, idly practicing her footwork as her silver blade flashed in the air. Growing bored, she sheathed her blade and went to the cliffs' edge. "Hello down there!" she yelled. "Slow going?"

"I'm rather busy at the moment," the man in black called back to her. "I would thank you not to distract me, this is not an easy task."

"I've got a rope up here. Would that make it easier?"

"Yes."

"Will you still want it if I tell you that I'm only waiting up here to kill you?"

"That does complicate things."

"And if I give you my word not to kill you before you reach the top?"

"What reason do I have to trust you?'

Sif sighed in exasperation. She _hated_ waiting. "I swear on the soul of my brother, Heimdall, you will reach the top alive."

"Throw me the rope."

Sif unwound the rope and dropped it down to the man in black, and helped to pull him up as he took hold of it. "I thank you," he said, reaching for his left side, where a sword was nestled in its scabbard. On his other hip was a curious looking hammer.

"I'll give you a moment to rest," Sif told him, holding up her hand.

"Again, I thank you." 

Sif's eyes went to his right hand, but she couldn't get a clear look at it. "I hope you will pardon me, but do you have six fingers on your right hand?"

"Do you always begin conversations like this?" the man in black inquired, pulling off one of his boots and emptying it of rocks.

"My brother was slain by a six fingered man." The man in black held up his right hand. Five fingers. She had thought as much. "Good, I can respect you now," she said dryly, spinning her blade again.

"You will not respect his killer?"

"Of course not. My brother... he was a magnificent swordsmith, and when I was a child, the six fingered man paid us a visit. He commissioned this very sword, and my brother slaved a year to make it."

"It looks magnificent."

"It is without equal," she told him, a trace of pride leaking into her speech. "But the six fingered man instead haggled for a price lower than the original, and Heimdall refused to bargain when a masterpiece created with such passion was involved. So the six fingered man ran him through the heart. I picked up the sword and tried to attack, but he knocked me aside and gave me these." She touched the white scars upon her cheeks. "To teach me a lesson. I loved my brother. So, these past twenty years, I've been studying swordplay, doing everything I could to master the blade that cost him his life, and hunt down the villain who took it from him. And when I meet him, I will say to him, 'hello, my name is Sif. You killed my brother. Prepare to die.'"

"I hope you find him one day."

"So do I."

"Well." The man in black pulled on his boots and drew his sword. "I believe I've caught my breath now, we may as well get this business done with."

"You seem a decent fellow," Sif remarked. "I hate to kill you."

"You seem a decent lady," he answered. "I hate to die."

"And yet one of us must." Sif removed her right hand from the blade, getting into position. The man in black was using his left hand too, something that pleased her rather greatly. _Please let him be good,_ she prayed silently. _Let him be a master, someone who will actually be able to match me._

They circled one another slowly, each waiting for the other to make the first strike. The man in black made a feint, and Sif fell for it, her sword flashing and landing on his with a clang. She looked up at him in shocked delight. _Oh, this is going to be fun._

Now that the impasse had been broken, there was no holding either of them back, the strikes falling fast and furious. Her heart was racing, sweat was collecting on her brow; _this_ was a real fight. This was _fun_. The man in black was pushing her up the steps of a ruin, but she spun and ducked under his arm, backing him into a corner, only to have him push her off the edge. She landed on both her feet in the sand, and grinned up at him.

"That better not be the best you have."

"I'm just getting started." He leapt down so they were on even ground once more, and the strikes resumed once more. Sif felt her left arm beginning to fade, and allowed a slow smile to cross her lips. "What are you smiling at?" the man in black asked.

"You're better than me," she told him, "But I know something that you don't."

"And what is that?"

"I am not left handed." She tossed the sword up in the air, catching it in her right, and instantly, her prowess doubled. Now it was the man in black who was fading, the man in black who was being pushed backwards into a corner. "Will you yield?"

"Not before I tell you something."

"Which is what?"

"I'm not left handed either." He pulled the hammer from his side, smashing it against her sword, and throwing her down on the ground, the sword knocked from her hand.

"Kill me quickly," she said faintly, staring up at the sky. _Forgive me, Heimdall._

"I don't believe either of us has to die today. You are too great a master to destroy. But I cannot have you following me either." He bent down and pinched her neck the same way Malekith had done to the Princess. Sif didn't even have the chance to open her mouth in protest before she was rendered unconscious. 


	5. The Preparations

“He’s beaten Sif...” Bruce breathed deeply as he returned to his human form. He knew Malekith wouldn't be happy, but the concern for his friend won out.The Princess looked both intrigued and alarmed by this new development as all three of them peered at the fast approaching figure of the man in black.

"Then you'll have to deal with him," Malekith ordered. "I'll go on ahead with her and finish this. You wait here, and when he comes, change back into the beast and smash his head in."

"Does he have to be killed—"

" _Of course he does, you idiot, now do as you're told before I send you back to where you were!"_ The hissed threat was enough to make Bruce flinch, and he watched as Malekith pulled the Princess away, further up the hillside.

Bruce sincerely hoped Sif wasn't dead. She was the closest thing he had to a friend in a long time, and the only reason he was able to control his other self as well as he did. She knew how to calm him, how to make sure he felt safe, even when Malekith was calling him _beast_ or _monster._

Soon enough, the man in black rounded the corner. "You're the skin changer," he guessed. "Will you let me pass?"

"Why are you chasing us?" Bruce ignored Malekith's previous order.

"You're transporting someone of great importance."

"Why do you want the Princess?"

"That's my business, now will you let me pass?"

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. If you want to pass, you're going to have to get through me." Bruce let his anger flood through him, and his body swelled until the man in black looked puny in his eyes. And then he swung his fist down. 

The man in black dodged easily, grabbing hold of his fist, and pushing back. It was more shock than anything else that made Bruce stumbled backward. The man in black took the opportunity to go vaulting off one of the surrounding boulders and jumped onto Bruce's back. His arms latched tightly around Bruce'sneck, and Bruce roared, trying to shake him off, but the man in black held firm. Bruce smashed his back against the boulder, trying to crush him, but the man in black would not let go.

Bruce's vision began to grow spotty, and his breath slowed; he was changing back... "How...."

"I'm sorry for this. You'll probably have quite the headache when you wake up, I hope you can forgive me." Something hard and metal smacked against the back of Bruce's head, and he blacked out.

* * *

Jane was sitting on a stone, her hands still bound and now blindfolded, too. Malekith was beside her, holding a knife to her throat. She heard footsteps approaching and Malekith spoke. "So, it is down to you. And it is down to me." There was no reply. "If you wish her dead, by all means, keep moving forward."

"Let me explain... Perhaps an arrangement can be reached."

"There will be no arrangement, and you're killing her." Jane whimpered as the knife scraped against her throat and a bead of blood trickled down her skin. Then the knife disappeared, and she breathed a little more easily.

"But if there can be no arrangement, then we are at an impasse."

"I'm afraid so. I can't compete with you physically. And you're no match for my brains."

"You're that smart?"

"Let me put it this way: have you ever heard of Bragi, Kvasir, Mimir?"

"Yes."

"Morons."

"Really?" The man in black sounded impressed. "In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits."

"For the Princess?" There was a moment's pause. As far as Jane could guess, the man in black was nodding. "To the death?" Another pause. "I accept."

"Good. Then pour the wine." Jane heard the dagger go back in its sheath and the sound of wine being poured. "Inhale this, but do not touch," the man in black instructed.

"I smell nothing," Malekith scoffed after a moment.

"What you do not smell is called the Aether. It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly of poisons known to man."

"Hmm." Malekith sounded impressed.

There were a few clicks and scrapes, and the sound of liquid moving as the goblets were set down. "All right," the man in black said, "where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right and who is dead."

"But it's so simple. All I have to do is divine from what I know of you. Are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet, or his enemy's?" Malekith chuckled. "Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I'm not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You've made your decision then?"

"Not remotely. Because the Aether comes from Titan, as everyone knows. And Titan is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you."

"Truly, you have a dizzying intellect."

"Wait till I get going! Where was I?"

"Titan," the man in black deadpanned.

"Yes, Titan. And you must have suspected I would have known the poison's origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You're just stalling now." Was she imagining things, or did their pursuer sound nervous now?

" _You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?_ " Malekith shouted. "You've beaten my monster, which means you're exceptionally strong. So, you could have put the poison in your own goblet, trusting on your strength to save you. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But, you've also bested my shield-maiden which means you must have studied. And in studying, you must have learned about mortality so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me!"

"You're trying to trick me into giving away something. It won't work." He _was_ nervous that was feigned confidence, it had to be.

"It has worked! You've given everything away, I know where the poison is!"

"Then make your choice."

"I will. And I choose— what in the world can that be?"

"What? Where? I don't see anything."

Jane heard a soft scrape sound, and realized Malekith must have switched the goblets; he was cheating. And apparently barely able to contain it as he snickered softly. "Oh, well, I-I could have sworn I saw something. No matter."

"What's so funny?"

"I'll tell you in a minute. First, let's drink — me from my glass, and you from yours." Jane heard both goblets lifted. A pause. And then the sound of drinking, and Malekith's continued chuckles.

"You guessed wrong," the man in black announced.

"You only think I guessed wrong, _that's_ what's so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned, you fool!You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is 'never get involved in a land war in Asgard.' But only slightly less well known is this: 'never go in against a Svartálfarwhen death is on the line!'" 

Malekith continued roaring with laughter, then suddenly stopped. There was a thud and the sound of a knife being drawn. It sliced through Jane's bonds, and a pair of hands gently undid the blindfold. She looked up to see the man in black standing over her.

"Who are you?" she whispered

"No one you want to trifle with," he answered. "Beyond that, you do not need to know."

Jane looked over at Malekith's body. "So, it was your cup that was poisoned. I thought for sure it was—"

"They were both poisoned," the man in black interrupted, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. "I've spent the last few years building up an immunity to the Aether. Now, come. We still have a schedule to keep."

It took her less than a minute to realize they were not going back the way they had come. "You weren't sent to bring me back?" she asked in alarm.

"Hush," he commanded. "Save your breath, you will need it for running." He kept pulling her along, making her run for hours and hours until he finally let her stop. Jane collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

"If you're not bringing me back, please, at least let me go. For your own sake, if nothing else. The Prince will kill you if he captures you—"

"Oh, so you're counting on your beloved to save you?"

"When did I ever call him my beloved?" she demanded, glaring up at him. "I don't even _like_ him!"

The man in black laughed coldly. "You are a rare specimen of woman indeed, Princess, admitting not to love your intended."

"He knows that I don't love him. He always has."

"You mean he knows you are not capable of love."

"Of course I'm capable of love."

"You've said enough, I think."

" _I have loved more deeply than a killer like you could ever dream to!"_ Jane screamed. The man in black raised his hand coldly, as if to strike her, and Jane winced. Even Loki had never hit her. He lowered it without making contact and looked at her coldly.

"Consider that a warning," he said gruffly. "Next time, my hand flies on its own. I despise being lied to." He grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her up again. "I think your breath is sufficiently caught."

And then they were running again, and Jane grew more and more confused, and then it struck her, just as he let her stop again, at the edge of a ravine. "Surtur," she said hoarsely. "You're the Dread Pirate Surtur, admit it!"

"With pride, your highness." He swept her a mocking bow. "And what can I do for you?"

"You can _die_!" she spat furiously. "You can die the same way you killed the man I loved!"

"Oh, well, you're going to have to be more specific, I do kill a lot of people. This lover of yours, what was he? Another prince? A fat, rich old merchant who would have left you a very comfortable widow?"

"No! No, he wasn't any of those things. He was a hand on my family's farm, my father's ward, and he wasn't rich, but he was perfect to me! I loved him more than anything... And then your ship attacked his, and I know the stories. You never take prisoners."

"Well, I can't afford to make an exception. After all, it takes a lifetime to build a reputation and only one moment of weakness to destroy it. And then it's nothing but work, work, work all the time."

"Stop mocking my pain!"

"Life is pain, Princess! Anyone who says otherwise is selling something." Surtur began to pace around her. "Farm boy... Ah, now I remember. This was five years ago, wasn't it? Will it pain you to hear?"

"You've already caused me enough pain, I don't see how you can possibly inflict any more."

"He put up quite a fight before he was finally subdued. It took five men to hold him down. He was down on his knees, and he looked up, very calmly, and said 'please. Please, I need to live.' That was what caught my attention. I asked him what was so important that he needed to live, and his answer was 'true love.'"

Jane's hand went to clutch at her necklace. Loki had wanted her to get rid of it, and when she had refused, he'd offered another chain, but she'd held firm. She could feel the silver growing warmer against her skin, and it almost felt as if there were a heartbeat pulsing from the charm. Surtur kept talking.

"He spoke then of a woman of unsurpassed beauty, kindness and fidelity, I can only assume that he meant you. He should thank me for ending his life before you could destroy him by showing him your true nature."

"My true nature?" Jane repeated coldly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Fidelity he spoke of, Princess, and yet, here you stand, promised to another! Tell me truly, when you found out your farm hand was gone, did you get engaged to your prince at the same hour, or did you wait a week, out of respect for the dead?"

" _Stop it!_ " Jane screamed. "You mocked me once, never do it again! I _died_ the day you murdered him!" Surtur didn't respond, instead looking upwards. High above them were the silhouettes of riders on horseback. Loki was in pursuit, and if she was to return, Jane was going to see that she did something to avenge her murdered love. " _And you can die too for all I care,_ " she whispered, pushing Surtur down into the ravine. He tumbled down, becoming smaller and smaller, and then a single phrase resonated back up to her.

_"As.... you.... wish...."_

"Thor...." Jane realized. "Oh, Thor, what have I done to you now?" Without a second thought, she flung herself down after him.

* * *

Thor's entire body was aching from his fall, but when he turned his head and saw Jane lying only ten feet away, any pain there might have been vanished. "Jane... " He pushed himself up and over to her. "Jane, can you move?"

"You're alive...." she whispered, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling up at him. "I could fly if you wanted...."She wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face into his shoulder. "Never do that to me again..."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry, Jane, but I told you I'd return, why didn't you wait?"

"You were dead..." she said softly.

"As if I'd let a little thing like that stop me from getting back to you."

"It won't happen again," she whispered. "I promise. I won't get engaged to anyone else, and you won't get murdered again. Deal?"

He dissolved into a smile as her lips found his. Five years of separation and remembering had not done the experience justice. Kissing her made him feel reborn, a new and better man. He immediately regretted everything he'd said to her in the guise of Surtur, it had been unfairly cruel. "Deal," he agreed when their lips finally parted. "But we need to go now, that brat Prince of yours is still after us."

"I didn't ask for him," Jane complained as he helped her to her feet and they started walking. "And he's not my prince."

"I was only teasing, Jane. Even pirates know what Loki does to his wives, I guessed he might have threatened you." She rolled her eyes then stopped short, suddenly realizing the way their path was taking. "Jane—"

"No. Please, Thor, I can't."

"We have to."

"It's the _Fire Swamp_."

"I know it is." He cupped her face in his hands gently. "And I know we can survive it. Trust me, love."

"I used to dream I would die here."

"What child didn't? We've made it this far, everything we could ever want is just beyond the Swamp." He kissed the top of her forehead gently as he led her into the Swamp. It didn't stop her clinging tightly to him, though that was probably advisable anyway. The Fire Swamp was dark, full of odd noises, and very weak spots of light, and it smelled repulsive, like decaying vegetation and blood and sulfur. There was a good chance they could get easily separated and lost, so he laced his fingers with hers as they stepped deeper into the Swamp. "Not so bad now, is it?" He grinned and Jane rolled her eyes, but she was stepping in front now, a little more confident. 

Suddenly, a popping noise rang out, and a jet of flames erupted from the ground, setting Jane's skirt ablaze. She shrieked in surprise, clutching at him as he bent down to smother the flames with an unburnt piece of the dress. "I'm sorry," she exhaled.

"There was no harm," he soothed, brushing a smudge of soot from her cheek. "Are you unharmed?" She nodded. "Then we press on."

"I still don't understand. How is it you're alive?"

"It's a bit of a long story." He lifted her up by the waist as the popping started again. Another flame spurted up right where she had been standing. "What I told you about my capture was true. It did take quite a bit for them to subdue me, and the part about saying please... That did get the Captain's attention. While the rest of his crew was executing my own, he and his first mate took me into their cabin, and asked me more of you."

"Please tell me you didn't exaggerate."

"Jane, to me, you're the single most beautiful thing in the world."

"Don't talk like that," she sighed. "I've had courtiers flattering me for three years now, and it gets so repetitive and empty. I liked it better when you were the only person who thought me beautiful. Go back to the story, please."

"They were intrigued, and I used that chance to offer them my services, so no one would have to know about my survival. They talked it over for a moment between themselves and then the Captain turned to me and said, 'alright, Thor, we've never had a valet, but you can try it for today. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.'"

"But he didn't, clearly."

"No, he didn't. But it went on like that for two years. Every night, it was 'good night, Thor, good work, sleep well, I'll most likely kill you in the morning.' And while that was happening, I was learning how to fence, how to fight, anything that anyone could teach me. I was thinking I could find a time to get away, and then find my way back to you."

"Flames," she interrupted, stepping up on a large root as another burst came from their left, and Thor moved towards her.

"Thank you. Where was I?"

"Finding your way back to me. What happened next?"

"We were hunting down the treasure of the gods when the news about your betrothal to Loki reached us. I wanted to leave then and there, but I couldn't. By that point, everyone on the ship knew how deeply I felt for you, they would have been expecting it, and I couldn't be sure of an escape. So, I went along on the expedition, and when we found the treasure, this was a part of it." He unhooked Mjölnir from his side and showed her. "I was the only one who could lift it."

"Curious," Jane murmured, tracing the ancient runes on its side. "You don't know what it says?"

"None of us did. But, when we returned to the ship, the Captain and his first mate took me into their cabin again, and for the first time, I saw them unmasked."

"You saw Surtur unmasked?"

"That's just it, Jane. The Captain wasn't Surtur. His name is Steven, and he and his first mate, James, were originally officers in their kingdom's navy when their own vessel was attacked by Surtur. They managed to kill him together, but elected not to return home. So, Steven took up the mantle of Surtur, and James stayed with him."

"Why wouldn't they go back?"

"They made it clear they don't wish to talk about such things. But after they saw me lift Mjölnir, they wanted to make me an offer, to help me get you back if I would agree to become Surtur. I agreed, and we paid off the current crew before taking on a new one. Steven and James are currently my first and second officers, and Surtur's— my ship, the _Revenge_ is waiting for us on the other side of the swamp."

"So the real Surtur has been dead for years?"

"Yes. But it's the name that's the thing. When Steven and James killed him, he already had a reputation of ten years, they thought it easier to simply continue using the name, rather than start from nothing. I simply carried on the tradition. And I plan on passing it to someone else now that we're together again."

Jane looked as though she still had questions, but then, she had always been rather curious, and it quickly was overtaken by a beautiful look of amazement. "You cut it rather fine, sir," she teased softly, pulling away from him playfully. As she stepped back, one of her feet sank down into a patch of snowy white sand, which quickly expanded, swallowing her before she had time to scream.

Wasting no time, Thor set down Mjölnir and drew his sword, cutting one of the thick, rope-like vines that dangled from the trees and lashed it around his waist before diving in after her. Immediately, the sand seeped into his eyes, forcing him to grope for her blindly with only his hands. He grabbed a wrist, but it was too smooth and bony, most likely that of a previous victim. Growing more desperate, he pushed it aside and kept searching, this time finding the soft fabric of her dress, and he pulled until he could feel her warmth in his arms before climbing back up the vine.

As they broke through the surface, Jane gasped, coughing up the sand. Thor cradled her in his arms as she slowly won the struggle to regain her breath. "Shh, shh, it's alright, you're safe, we're safe," he promised gently, stroking her hair.

"For how long?" she choked out. "How long before I do something else that gets us both killed?"

His grip tightened on her, particularly as he saw it, out of the corner of his eye. Matted brown fur, slobbering pink maw, sharp yellow teeth. "We're not going to die," he insisted as he stood up and set her gently on her feet before retrieving Mjölnir. "Think about it. Everyone knows the three dangers of the Fire Swamp . We've discovered both the flame spurts and the lightning sand, now, we know how to avoid them."

"And the ROUS's?"

"Rodents of Unusual Size? I don't think they exist." Of course, that was the moment the one he had spotted not five minutes previous elected to attack. It pounced so quickly that he barely had time to smash it in the chest with the hammer. "Get to the higher ground!" he yelled to Jane, beating back a second one from behind.

"Flames!" she shouted back as she climbed. For a moment, Thor wondered if she had gone mad, and then realized. _Brilliant._ He paused, listening for the next source of a popping sound, and swung, knocking the first ROUS back into the fire just as it burst forth. He was about to draw his sword to deal with the other when he felt its teeth sink into his shoulder, and he yelled at the pain. Jane leapt down and ripped the sword from his side, running it under his arm and straight through the beast's chest, and it howled, releasing Thor from its mouth. One final strike from Mjölnir silenced it permanently.

"That was... amazing..." Jane breathed softly. "Let's never do it again." Thor couldn't help but laugh at that, and, after a moment, she joined in, passing his sword back to him.

"I don't think we'll have to, I can see the sunlight from here." They clasped hands tightly and slowly drew nearer the light. Thor could see the beach where the dinghy to take them back to the _Revenge_ was waiting. As they left the Swamp's edge, Jane looked up at him, and gave him the most glorious smile he had ever seen. She didn't have to say a word. He was just bending down to kiss her when the sound of horses' hooves suddenly surrounded them. Instinctively, Thor moved in front of Jane, brandishing Mjölnir as the Crown Prince and his men surrounded them.

"Surrender," Loki commanded, glaring down at Thor with a very condescending look. The dislike Thor had nursed since hearing about the engagement turned to disgust and hatred in an instant.

"I accept your surrender," he retorted brazenly.

"Brave," Loki sniffed. "But an arrogant fool."

"Are you meaning to capture us? We know how to survive the Fire Swamp, we can hide there quite happily for some time."

"I said surrender."

"I know, I accepted it."

"Thor..." Jane whimpered softly, her grip on his arm tightening.

"For the last time, _surrender or die!"_ Loki yelled.

" _Try and kill me!"_

" _DON'T YOU DARE HURT HIM!"_ Jane's shout drowned both of them out as she stepped forward, flinging her arms in front of Thor as if her small frame could possibly shield him from harm. Both Loki and Thor looked at her in confusion, but Jane's jaw remained set and her gaze steely. "If... I go back with you, you have to swear to me that no harm will come to this man."

"What matter is it to you?" Loki asked disdainfully.

"I've known him all my life, I care about him greatly," she answered. " _Swear to me_. Swear that you'll never hurt him, and that he'll be given safe transport."

Loki's eyes flicked from Jane to Thor, then back, and his lip curled in a very ugly smile. "If it means so much to you, _my_ Princess. I swear it."

"Jane..." This could not be happening. She could not be choosing Loki over him. "What are you doing?"

She turned back to look at him sadly. "You died for me once. I couldn't let it happen again. Not when I could save you."

"You would rather live with him than die with me."

"No, that's not—" She didn't get to finish as Loki rode past, lifting her up to sit in front of him on the horse's back. The last Thor saw of the woman he loved was her in the Prince's arms, looking back at Thor with utter sorrow in her eyes.

"Sir." He looked up to see Count Svadilfari, the Prince's infamous companion looming over him. "Come along, sir. It seems we have somewhere to take you."

"You're determining where that is, aren't you?" Thor realized aloud, slowly returning Mjölnir to his hip.

"Perceptive of you to notice that, sir." As the soldiers stepped out from the woods and began to chain Thor's hands together, he looked down and noticed a peculiar defect the Count possessed. "What is it?" Svadilfari asked.

"You have six fingers on your right hand. I met someone who was looking for you." The Count's face darkened immediately, and he drew his sword, clubbing Thor with the hilt and knocking him out. 


	6. The Festivities

When Loki returned with Jane tightly clasped in his arms, the people's view of him began to change. Oh, he was still one no one wanted to cross, but the young women of the kingdom started the trend by heightening the story of how he had valiantly chased after his abducted love and rescued her from the jaws of death. If anyone had disapproved of the Prince marrying a commoner before Jane's kidnapping, those objections were gone now. Loki had become a hero, and he made certain to use that to his advantage.

One of the first things he did was to hire two new servants specifically assigned to Jane. A marksman who patrolled the tower that held Jane's suite, and a pretty red-haired woman to act as Jane's confidante. And then, Loki started making an effort to spend more time with his intended. Jane barely noticed, and spent most of her time walking around the palace with a blank sulk on her face.

Two weeks after their return, the King fell ill during a hunt, and was dead by nightfall. And before the following dawn, Jane had become Loki's third wife and his Queen, and was presented once more to the people at noon. Once again, she was told to walk among them, but this time, there was one person who did not bow, a stately older woman with golden hair that was laced with silver.

"Deal with her," Loki commanded.

"No, wait..." Jane hurried towards her. "Please, tell me. What are you doing?"

"I will not bow to a woman who would cast aside true love so callously," the woman answered.

"I had to save him, he would have been killed if I hadn't—"

"He lives now, and you've married another! After all he did for you, you cast him out, shame on you! _Shame on you! Shame on you! Shame on you!_ " The woman came closer and closer, her blue eyes blazing in fury and suddenly, Jane woke up sweating and shaking.

"Princess...." Natasha hurried to her side, pressing a cool hand to her forehead. "It was only a nightmare, there now, everything's alright..."

"Princess," Jane repeated. "You're certain of that?"

"Of course...." Jane collapsed sobbing into Natasha's arms, her entire body shuddering. "Princess, what's wrong?"

"Nothing... Nothing, just... just..." She couldn't choke it out. "Will you go get something from the physicians to help me sleep?"

The draught helped her that night, but the following evening, she dreamed of delivering her first child in blood, sweat and tears. It was a boy, and a healthy one and Loki actually smiled before pressing his cold, smooth lips to hers. "You've made me very happy, my dear." 

But the minute Jane was alone with the infant, the baby turned away from her. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I don't want you to love me," the child answered. "And I don't want to love you. Your love kills. Thor loved you, and you killed him when you left him for my father."

Jane watched in horror as her son turned to a withered corpse in her arms and crumbled into dust. She screamed, and the sound brought Loki back, this time with a knife in hand. The blade flashed as it slit her throat, and when she awoke, she was still screaming. Natasha had to double the sleeping draught to get Jane back to bed.

The third night, Jane thought she would be granted a reprieve. At first, it seemed she was right, she was back at the moment when she'd first told Thor she loved him, but instead of smiling, his face darkened.

"You can't love," he told her, "because you have no heart. You may be beautiful, but you will only bring pain, and I will be doing the world a service in ridding it of you." His hand latched around her throat, crushing the air from her. This time, Jane awoke gasping and furious.

She was through with having fear and guilt dictate her life. Storming out of bed, she snatched up her robe, and made her way through the corridors to Loki's study. He was examining a few documents with Svadilfari, but looked up when he heard Jane enter. 

"You don't look well." From anyone else, that might have been concern, but from Loki, it was simply a fact to be stated.

"I'm not well," Jane blurted. "And it's only getting worse. When you first asked me to marry you, and I told you to kill me, I was being honest, and I will be honest with you again. I love Thor. I always have, and I always will.If you tell me that I still have to marry you when that day comes, I promise you, I'll be dead before morning."

"Your death is not something I want," Loki said, after a moment's silence. He stood and walked around the desk until he was in front of her. "If this truly means so much to you, then of course, the wedding is off. Svad, you did return this Thor safely, yes?"

"Of course, your highness."

"Then it ought to be a simple matter to find him again. But, Jane..."

"Yes?"

"Are you certain he'll even want you? You _were_ the one who brokered that little arrangement outside the Fire Swamp, after all."

"Thor knows me. He loves me, he'll return. He always does," she answered, more confidently than she felt. The way Loki's eyes were scrutinizing her made doubt wriggle in her stomach, not in Thor, but in herself.

"I see. Well, then, I suggest the following arrangement. You write four copies of a letter, and I will send one copy with each of the four best ships in the Royal Armada to hunt down Thor and deliver your message. If he wants you back, you're free to be together, with my blessing. But there is a condition to this."

_Of course there is_ , Jane thought. "What is that?"

"If he cannot be found in time, or refuses you, I want your word that you will adhere to our original understanding, and become my wife when the day arrives, rather than suicide. Those are my terms. Will you accept?"

Jane hesitated, then nodded. Thor _would_ come back. She had to believe that. And even if she did keep her word, there was nothing to stop her from killing herself _after_ the wedding had happened.

* * *

Thor woke in a large, dark, cold room, lit by a rather ominous collection of torches. The firelight cast grotesque shadows on the walls, and he could hear all manner of screams and groans from above him. He tried to sit up, but found he was bound, strapped against the flat wooden surface where he was lying. 

"Don't move too much," a young man's voice interrupted. As Thor looked up, a face remarkably similar to Loki's entered his peripheral vision. "This is the first you've been properly conscious in a fortnight."

"Where am I?" Thor asked hoarsely.

"The Menagerie." The young man, most likely one of Loki's younger brothers rubbed something on Thor's shoulder, surprisingly causing no pain. "You've been awake before, of course, but my— the Prince wanted you well drugged until you'd made a full recovery."

"If he plans to kill me, why does he care if I recover?"

"The Prince likes people to be healthy before he breaks them."

"He means to torture me."

"You did kidnap his intended. It's a highly criminal offense, and Loki is the one to deal with such criminals." The words sounded mechanical in the younger prince's mouth. "I will return in a few minutes."

As he left, Thor heard voices drifting down from a staircase. "Quite a stubborn thing, really. I like that about her, it's honestly such a shame she won't last." That was Loki's voice.

"You could always reconsider and keep her." That was the Count. "We can find a different reason to wage war on Njord."

"No, it has to be this. The people are so utterly besotted with her, it's astounding. You know, I thought it was clever when I hired Malekith to cut her throat, but it's going to be so much more tragic when I discover her murdered corpse in the bridal suite. The entire kingdom will be outraged, they'll practically beg me to lead them into glorious battle against Njord."

If Thor had hated Loki before, that was nothing now. He would see the Prince dead a thousand times over for this plot. Their footsteps grew closer, and Thor squeezed his eyes shut, feigning sleep.

"Helblindi!" Loki called out sharply."I thought you sent word that he was awake."

"He was!" Helblindi protested.

"Well, then get him up! I have a dozen other obligations I need to take care of, including my wedding!" Thor's fist tightened as Helblindi prodded him, but he opened his eyes all the same. Loki smirked down at him. "Hard to believe you're the reason I'm going through all this additional trouble. Svad?"

"My Prince?"

"Remember what we discussed." Loki leaned down so that his face was barely an inch from Thor's. "I gave my betrothed my word that I would not harm you, sadly. Svadilfari, however, has made no such oath. And so I will have to put your punishment in his hands. I do so hate watching, but if what kind of man would I be if I didn't grant my future bride's requests?" He paused, waiting for an answer. Thor spat in his face. 

Slowly, Loki raised his fingers to brush the saliva away. "Reckless," he hissed softly. "You will come to regret that, _Thor_. Helblindi, stay behind, do whatever the Count tells you. I have business back at the palace."

"Yes, brother."

Loki turned, leaving Thor alone with Svadilfari and Helblindi, and the Count turned to the younger Prince. "Write down everything he says." Thor heard the ring of steel and then the Count was standing over him, a long, thin knife in hand. "Who hired you to kidnap the Princess? Njord himself? One of his kin?"

"No one. I was alone," Thor answered honestly. Svadilfari dragged the blade across his chest, making a shallow cut. Thor grimaced, but made no other response. He was giving the Count the bare minimum of his attention, fully aware that this was a farce, and instead, trying to work out a plan to escape and rescue Jane.

He knew he was somewhere within the walls of the Menagerie, which meant he was on the castle grounds, so Jane couldn't be very far. The main problem was getting himself free. He began slowly trying to twist his wrist, to slip free of the restraints but it wouldn't give. Svadilfari noticed and sliced open his palm. This time, Thor yelled at the surprise of an unexpected location. 

"Who hired you to kidnap the Princess?" the Count repeated.

" _No one._ "

The blade went deeper into his chest this time. "Who hired you?" 

" _NO ONE!"_ Thor shouted.

"Then why did you take her?" Svadilfari pulled the knife away.

"I was trying to save her."

"You're lying."

"No."

"Tell me the truth."

"I already have." It went on like that for days. When it was only Svadilfari, Thor could get away with more, he could think and plan, but when Loki was there, he had no such luck. The Prince almost seemed a demon in his suggestions to Svadilfari, intricate and exacting and inescapable.

The worst was when they introduced the Machine. Thor had remained strapped to the same table for weeks, but on that day, they strapped some kind of harness to his body, suction cups being placed at strategic points on his body.

"I've spent a lifetime on this," Svadilfari informed him. "But it wasn't fully realized until recently. Would you like to see what it does?"

"Do I have a choice?" Thor asked coldly.

"No." Loki smirked from his seat. "Go on, Svad. Show our guest. See if we can't finally hear what we want to hear." Svadilfari nodded and raised a lever. Thor heard the rush of water, and then, suddenly, his entire body was being torn apart from the inside out, he was twisting and writhing as much as his restraints would allow, but he kept his mouth shut. He wouldn't give Loki the satisfaction of hearing his pain. The device stopped as quickly as it had started.

"It's the same principle as a suction pump," Svadilfari explained. "Except with life. That was one year I just took from you. I may one day go as high as five, but for now, we'll stay simple. What are your thoughts on my life's work, Thor?" Thor clenched his jaw, but a low shudder of agony escaped his lips in the form of a groan. 

"Fascinating," Loki breathed gleefully.

* * *

After a month and three weeks of torture, Loki was beginning to get bored again. Thor was far too... resilient. Loki knew the trick, he'd used it himself in countless council meetings when he was younger. "You summoned me?" He glanced up to see Býleistr standing in the doorway.

"I did, little brother. Come here." Loki crooked his finger, beckoning the youngest of the royal children forward. Knowing his elder brother’s preferences, Býleistr immediately knelt at the side of Loki’s chair. “I’m trusting you with this secret. You, not Helblindi. Njord hasn’t stopped his attempts to take Jane from me. He has assassins hidden in the Thieves’ Quarter of the city, planning to attack and murder her on our wedding night.”

“I haven't heard any of this."

"Yes, well,I _am_ the Crown Prince, I make it my business to know such things," Loki told him snidely. His brothers were too annoyingly easy to control. All he had to do was dangle praise and affection in front of them with one hand, and the threat of the Menagerie in the other hand, and both of them went along with it easily.

"Has there been any word?" Jane appeared in the door.

"Patience, sweetling," Loki scolded gently.

"There's only a week left, though!"

"Do you doubt him?"

"No." She turned on her heel, Natasha right behind her. Loki returned his gaze to Býleistr.

"I will not lose another bride. I want you to empty the Thieves' Quarter on the day of the wedding, before the ceremony starts. Every inhabitant is to be arrested or executed."

"Brother, the forces I command may not be enough, the entire Thieves' Quarter—"

" _Form a brute squad, if that's what it takes, but get it done!"_ Loki hissed, grabbing Býleistr by the collar. "I want it emptied before I wed, Býleistr, and if you are not going to take this task seriously, I can easily find a different task for you in the Menagerie." His brotherimmediately lost any color in his already pale face as Loki pulled him closer.. "Will it be a problem?"

"No..."

"Good. Now, see it done." Loki released his grip. "Oh, and Býleistr?"

"Yes, brother?"

"I'm sure you don't need to be told what failure will be met with. You are dismissed." Loki leaned back and closed his eyes as his brother exited the room. He had been contemplating Svadilfari's suggestion of keeping Jane alive, and finding some other way of causing a war, and had briefly thought of using Býleistr instead. He was certainly well-loved enough, and if he allegedly lost his life defending Jane, that could work doubly to Loki's advantage, but there were certain lines even Loki knew better than to cross, kinslaying being one of them. His mind remained unchanged. Jane would die, and he would use that to bring the other realms to heel, forcing them to their knees until they acknowledged him as the high king.

* * *

Býleistr did as Loki told him, and when the day of the wedding arrived, his Brute Squad had their hands full carrying out the orders they had been given, until only one remained.

Sif sat outside one of the most dilapidated taverns in the quarter, her sword in one hand and a pint in the other. "Another!" she yelled, smashing the tankard. "Or are you all too afraid to face me now? Cowards who don't want to lose to a woman?"

"Ho there!" a voice growled.

"Whores're inside," she slurred. " _I'm_ a warrior."

"The prince gave orders to arrest all your lot." Sif sliced in his direction twice, barely moving from her seat.

" _Your_ prince, not my prince. I've got orders, too. Orders to wait here... Go back to the beginning. This was the beginning of our last job. This is where I stay. Until Malekith gets back..."

"Not a good idea." A familiar voice broke through the haze of ale on her mind. "You'll wait forever."

Sif pushed herself upwards, searching for the source of the voice. "Bruce?"

"Smash," came the somber reply, there was the sound of a fist hitting someone's face, and suddenly, Bruce was under her as her knees buckled. "Sif, Sif, you need to stay with me, wait until I tell you this. I know where he is. The six fingered man."

_That_ got her attention. "Where?!"

"Let's get you sober before you go charging off for your vengeance." Bruce helped her inside and sat her down before dunking her head in a barrel of cold water. Sif resurfaced, shrieking and gasping for breath, but he pushed her down again, this time into hot water. He kept repeating the process until she slapped his hands away.

"Enough! Enough! Now, where is he, Bruce? Where is the six fingered man? Tell me!"

"Count Svadilfari, the Prince's closest advisor. He's in the castle with the Prince now, but the gate's guarded by thirty men."

"How many could you take?" Sif asked, counting on her fingers.

"Fifteen. Maybe twenty, if I don't hold back."

"Leaving fifteen to ten for me. Even on my best days, I was never that good." Sif frowned. "I'm a duelist, not a strategist. I need... I need someone like Malekith."

"But Malekith's dead."

"I gathered that, Bruce. So... I need the man in black," she realized. "He knew what to expect from all of us, he beat you, he beat me, he must have known how to defeat Malekith too! A man like that... Oh, Bruce, with a man like that planning this, my brother's soul will be at peace before the night is out! Come on!"

* * *

Loki paced his study, sharpening his favorite dagger on a whetstone. There was a knock on the door and Býleistr walked in, kneeling immediately. "It's done. The Quarter's empty, and I have thirty men guarding the gate."

"Double it," Loki ordered. "We take no chances— Ah, Jane." He set down the dagger on the mantle and walked over to take both his betrothed's hands and kiss them, a little show for Býleistr. "Wait just a moment, sweetling, I'm nearly done with Býleistr." He turned back to his little brother. "I want you preparing the escort detail for tomorrow, to convey us safely to the harbor. From there, we'll have the full Armada for protection."

"Except the four ships you sent," Jane interrupted. Loki paused for the briefest instant, but it was enough to shatter the deception. _Fool,_ he berated himself, _so close and now you let that slip!_

"Býleistr, leave us," he ordered, and his brother wisely did as told.

"You didn't send the ships," Jane snapped the minute they were alone, pulling her hands from his. "Don't even bother to lie to me. It doesn't matter anyway, Thor is still going to come back for me."

"You're being silly, Jane. Pre-wedding nerves, it's common for brides," he lied smoothly.

"You're a coward! You don't even have it in you to admit when you've been caught in a lie!"

Loki's fists clenched at his side. "I would not say such things if I were you," he warned, gritting his teeth.

"Why?" She looked at him with such blatant defiance, it took everything in him not to kill her then and there. "There's nothing you can do to hurt me, because what I have, what I share with Thor, you'll never be able to understand it. Love isn't something you can track or break or destroy, and I _will_ say you're a coward, because that's what you are! A lying, cheating, pathetic, _weakling coward!_ "

Loki grabbed her by the waist, dragging her back into her rooms and slamming her against the wall, holding her down by the wrists. " _Sentiment_ ," he hissed. "All your talk of love, it's _nothing_ , you little fool, it's a heartbeat, there and then gone. And I fully intend to show you that tonight when I take you. Slowly. Intimately. Pinned beneath me and writhing with pleasure as my every touch makes you forget your precious Thor, the only sounds spilling from your lips wanton cries of _my_ name."

"No... no, never..." Jane struggled uselessly in his grip, trying to kick at him. " _Never, never, never!_ "

"Oh, but it will." He flung her down on the bed and turned to Natasha. "Do not allow her to leave this room until the ceremony tonight." As he stormed out of the suite, he locked the door behind him for good measure before breaking into a run to the Menagerie, descending the levels in record speed. Helblindi and Svadilfari were both standing over Thor, and he pushed them both aside. "GET OUT!" he yelled at Helblindi, and, just like Býleistr, Helblindi knew to do as he was told. Loki returned his attention to Thor, staring down with venom at Jane's lover.

"Must the two of you continue to complicate everything?" he hissed. "All this talk of _love,_ it's disgusting. And do you know what disgusts me the most? She loves you still! I offer her everything, and yet all she wants is you! And you! I saw what you would do every time, dropping your eyes, drifting off, imagining yourself with her, I'm sure. In a perfect world, the two of you might have been truly happy, but no one, _no one_ , has that chance. And I will take that from you. I'm going to make her mine tonight, Thor, I'm going to make her forget you, and then, I am going to cut that pretty throat of hers." Thor began to struggle with his bonds as never before, electric fury burning in his eyes, but Loki only sneered. "And the most delicious part? I'm not giving you _any_ opportunity to save her. I don't think anyone in this, or any world, will ever suffer as greatly as you are about to."

“Loki, what are you—” He didn’t give Svadilfari the chance to finish his sentence. Loki grabbed the lever of the machine and pulled it up to its highest setting. “ _NOT TO TWENTY, ARE YOU MAD?”_

The sound that erupted from Thor’s lips was barely human, a roar of thunder mixed with a scream of torment, bouncing and echoing of the walls of the Menagerie, carrying out into the entirety of the city. And Loki did not switch the Machine off until the sound had ended.

 


	7. The Wedding

Sif heard the scream, and stopped Bruce walking. "Do you hear that? That... That's the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that noise when Svadilfari slaughtered my brother. The man in black makes it now."

"How do you know?"

"Logic," Sif answered, picking up her pace. "Think about it. You said it yourself, the Princess lost someone very dear to her, the man in black told you she was someone of great importance. Two and two together, the Princess and the man in black were lovers. So, if you are the Prince, and it's been made to look like your betrothed's been kidnapped, and you find her alive with a strange man, logic would suggest the fellow in question is the kidnapper.And we know what the Prince does with criminals. The wedding is tonight, which means the man in black knows he's about to lose his love, and he's most likely..."

"In the Menagerie," Bruce finished. "So how are we going to find him?"

Sif frowned, thinking a moment back to every story. "There has to be an outer entrance. Loki releases some of those animals he keeps into the woods for hunting. Come on, we have precious little time."

"Then I run." Bruce shifted his skin and picked her up, barreling past anyone in their path and not stopping until they were outside the palace walls. He set her down before returning to his smaller size and breathed deeply. "What now?"

"What are you doing here?" They turned to see a young man standing behind them, a wheelbarrow in hand.

"Where's the man in black?" Sif demanded, drawing her blade in a heartbeat and pressing it to the young man's chest. "Tell us. Now."

"I... I can't—"

"Bruce. Would you please be so kind as to persuade him?" Bruce shifted into his giant form and roared in the boy's face, until he had fallen backwards onto his rear.

"Right... right there..." He pointed at a section of the wall before fainting dead away.

"Well, now what?" Bruce asked. Sif ignored him, kneeling to the ground and holding her sword to the air with her eyes closed. "Sif?"

"Brother... Heimdall, I need your help now, one last time. The man who can see you avenged is close, brother, so close, and you could always see better than I. I need you... I need you to guide my sword. Help me find him and end this. Guide my sword..." She felt something lifting her up, pulling her around and suddenly, the steel tapped against stone and there was a loud creak. She opened her eyes to see a doorway opening in the wall. "I didn't think that would actually work," she breathed in amazement. "Let's go." 

They descended into the passageway, Sif keeping her blade up as they navigated the tunnels downward, finally emerging in a large, cavernous space. And, strapped to a table, unmoving, was someone who could only be the man in black, though this was the first time Sif had seen him unmasked. If the attraction was physical alone, she could already tell why Jane would have fallen in love with such a man. Bruce moved closer, pressing his head to the man in black's bare chest.

"There's... there's no heartbeat."

"No... no, I will not accept defeat so easily." Sif began to unbuckle the straps holding the man in black down. "Come on, help me carry him."

"Carry him where?"

"I've heard stories about a man who can work miracles. If ever one was needed, it's now. Do you have any money?"

"A little."

"Then I pray it's enough. Come on."

* * *

"Natasha?"

"Princess?" Natasha set down the silver hairbrush she had been using on Jane's soft brown locks.

"I'm scared..." Jane admitted.

"You'll be alright." Natasha started to rub her shoulders, leaning down so their heads were next to each other in the mirror. "I know it."

"How?" Jane's voice cracked with a tinge of hysteria. "How am I going to be alright? I'm going to be trapped here, raped by that.. that... _monster_ until I give him a child and I've most likely broken the heart of the man I love in the process! There's only hours left."

"The captain hasn't failed you yet," Natasha whispered, and Jane stopped, looking at her in shock.

"Did you just—"

"Shh." Natasha placed a finger to her lips, winking impishly. "Your fate isn't set in stone. It never is. You might grow to like what the future holds for you."

The wink had been enough. All Jane's fears melted away, replaced by the confidence she'd shown in Loki's study.Thor _would_ come back for her. Of course he would. She took a very long, very deep breath, then rose, regal and elegant, the very picture of a queen. But there was now a wild light in her dark eyes that suggested a very different kind of queen. A pirate's queen. "I suppose we should start getting ready, if that's the case. Help me dress.”

“Of course, Princess.”

* * *

"This is the place." Sif banged on the door of the house in question.

"I'm afraid we're not taking visitors," a man's pleasant voice came from behind the door.

"Sir, if you're Anthony Stark—"

"I am not. And I’m afraid sir does not take visitors."

"But it's very important!"

"Madam, everyone who comes here for my employer's services insists that their needs are _very important_."

"I will not take no for an answer!"

"Then I am afraid, madam, you will be waiting out here for a very long time."

"Jarvis, move." A new voice interrupted them, and a panel in the door opened to reveal the face of a man with a dark goatee and amber eyes. "Whatever you want, I don't have it."

"Stark." To Sif's surprise, Bruce was the one to speak. "It's me."

" _Bruce?_ Oh, well, that changes everything. Jarvis, let them in." The door opened, allowing Sif, Bruce, and the man in black inside.

Anthony Stark proved to be a rather short fellow with black hair to match the goatee. He dressed like a working man, in dark, durable, but well made clothes, and at the center of his chest, a circle of blue light glowed faintly. "I haven't seen you in years!" he exclaimed, embracing Bruce tightly. "You never wrote back, how did things go with Elizabeth?" Bruce's face darkened as they pulled away.

"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.

“Alright, fine, I’ll say no more. So, what is it you need?" Stark seemed to finally notice they had a corpse in tow, and turned grim in an instant. "Oh, no. No, no, no, never again."

"We wouldn't ask this if it weren't—"

"I gave up being the Merchant of Death after this happened!" Stark tapped his chest. "And Pepper would _kill_ me if she found out—"

"Stark, you owe me," Bruce reminded him. "At least take a look at him."

"Fine, put him on the table. Jarvis, get me the bellows cram." The balding fellow Sif had somehow missed nodded and went off as Stark helped them get the man in black onto the table, and then started prodding him all over. "Huh. You may be in luck. He's only mostly dead. Haven’t seen that in a while.”

"Mostly?" Sif repeated. "How can there be a _mostly_ dead?"

"Bellows cram, sir." Jarvis passed it over.

"Thank you, Jarvis. Hold his mouth open for me." After Jarvis had done so, Stark put the hose between the man's lips and began pumping. "Mostly dead is slightly alive. There are little bits and pieces of his brain that are still working, still a little kick left in him. And if I get enough air in him, maybe he'll have a decent reason why I should help you bring him back." Stark set down the bellows and practically shouted in the man's face. "Well? What has you holding on to life? What's so important to you?" He pushed down on the man's chest, and two words escaped the man's lips.

_"True... love..."_

"Surely nothing is more decent a reason!" Sif declared triumphantly. " _True love!_ The greatest thing in the world! No cause is nobler! _”_

“If that's what he said," Stark countered. "It could have easily been something else, slurred words happen—”

"Tony, don't be an ass." A lovely strawberry-blonde woman walked into the room, and Sif felt her spine straighten. Everything about this woman said poise and grace. "I heard what he said, and if you don't believe in true love—"

"Pepper, sweetheart, please, not now, I'm trying to tell them I'm not working anymore."

Pepper took Stark's hand and looked at him expectantly. "I think this is a good time to make an exception."

"No."

"You can't let what Loki did get to you.”

"You agreed never to bring up that little brat ever again.” Stark folded his arms defensively. “And I thought we had a deal.”

“As I remember it, we had twelve percent of a deal before you started acting like a child.”

“Pepper, you’re not helping right now.”

"Tony—"

"I said no! I'm trying to keep the promise I made you!"

"And if the true love he's speaking of is Loki's intended?" Sif interrupted the couple's bickering. "If you have some quarrel with Loki, I'm sure our mostly dead friend here would be more than happy to make Loki suffer." That got Stark's attention.

"I cure him, Loki gets what's coming to him?"

"And then some."

"Then we're in business." 

"Bruce, why don't you take Jarvis with you while you're going to look for some of the hard to find ingredients?" Pepper suggested. "Tony has the list over there."

"You mean _you_ put it over there, I didn't," Stark grumbled. "Fine, if we're doing this, Warrior Princess, you're going to sit quietly and watch a genius work."

Sif hated him for it, but she did as she was told, watching Pepper, Jarvis and Bruce come and go as Stark tinkered with some truly bizarre contraptions. After three hours, he finally produced a little vial of a blue liquid so pale it was almost white.

"You'll have to force feed it to him,” the inventor informed them. “Wait fifteen minutes for full potency, and handle him gently. It'll take a little while before he's back at full force, but at least he won't have the scars like I do."

"Thank you." Sif took the vial from him, tucking it into the purse at her hip before pulling the man in black's left arm over her shoulders. "Come on, Bruce. We'd best be on our way.”

Pepper and Stark showed them out waving from the doorway.

“Good luck! Have fun storming the castle!”

“You really believe they can do it, don’t you?” Pepper asked her lover proudly.

“Maybe… it’d take a miracle.”

* * *

Thor awoke with a jolt, short, sharp and electric. As his eyes struggled to regain focus, he realized there were two figures surrounding him. "Who's first?" he growled. "I can take both of you at one—" One of them clapped a hand over his mouth, and he realized he was still immobile, though no longer bound. His vision cleared, and he found himself staring at Sif and the other one of Malekith's associates, the skin changer.

"Hush," Sif told him. "I don't know if you remember us. I'm Sif, this is Bruce. We brought you back to help you." She pulled her hand away, and he frowned.

"Helpme?" Loki's words before the pain came rushing back to him.

_All she wants is you.... I'm going to make her mine tonight.... I am going to cut that pretty throat of hers... I don't think anyone in this, or any world, will ever suffer as greatly as you are about to._

"Jane," he croaked hoarsely.

"Still in the palace. The wedding's in an hour," Sif explained hurriedly. "We have to get in before then, break up the wedding, free her, and make our escape, after I kill Svadilfari."

"We're not enemies, then?"

"Not anymore."

"Why won't my arms move?"

"You've been mostly dead for a while," Bruce explained. "We had to get you back on your feet, but there's not really time for that."

“Well, that certainly explains a lot.” Thor paused to take a long breath and gather his thoughts. “What are we up against?"

"The youngest prince is guarding the only gate, and there are sixty men with him."

"And what do we have for assets?"

"Bruce's strength, my steel and your strategics."

"That's not enough." Thor frowned. "If that's all we have... no, I'd need more time..." _Jane… raped and murdered…_ “You should have left me dead... I've failed her..."

"Come on, there must be something," Sif urged.

"With the few things you've suggested? No. But if we had a wheelbarrow, then we might have been able to do something."

"But there was one! At the entrance to the Menagerie, I put it over that boy," Bruce interrupted helpfully. Thor breathed a little easier, he did have the bare skeleton of a plan now. 

"That gets us a little closer, but we'd still need a holocaust cloak."

“But we have one. Pepper let me keep the one she had, it was too big for her or Stark.”

"You really should have included those items in the initial inventory." Thor glanced down, pleased to see that Mjölnir was still at his side. Loki hadn't been able to move it. "Help me up?"

"Are you not going to tell us the plan?" Sif demanded while they did as he asked.

"I'll get to it. But right now, we need to get moving. As you said, there's only an hour, and I'll be damned before I allow Loki to destroy Jane."

* * *

Jane fingered Thor's pendant again. It was warm and pulsing again, something she chose to take as a sign that she was right. Thor was on his way. 

"Let me." Natasha reached out and adjusted the cord so the pendant was hidden beneath the neckline of Jane's gown. "We shouldn't be too obvious about such things."

"Yes, of course." Jane nodded innocently. No one at court knew that her necklace was an engagement gift from Thor, but Loki did. She wasn't about to give him the chance to rip it from her neck. "I'm ready to finish this." Natasha nodded, turning to go off and supposedly prepare the bridal suite, and Jane set out for the Great Hall. 

Unsurprisingly, Loki had spared no expense in making the evening a spectacle, and Jane was just the final touch. He was waiting for her at the Hall's entrance and took her hand in his own cold one, the manner of it more possessive than loving. _Thor is on his way,_ Jane told herself with every step they made towards the High Priest. _He'll be here, he'll get me out, I won't be Loki's wife, I won't, I won't. Thor will be here. He'll be here. He'll be here._

Outside, she heard a yell of "stand your ground!"Loki looked concerned for a moment before fixing his eyes on Svadilfari, who nodded and left the hall with a detail of guards. Jane allowed herself a smile. She was right. Thor was here.

* * *

Sif grunted a little as she pushed the wheelbarrow forward. "Now?"

"Not yet," Thor told her.

"I AM THE DREAD PIRATE SURTUR!" Bruce bellowed from beneath the holocaust cloak. “THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS!"

"Stand your ground!" the younger prince shouted as his men began to falter.

"NO SURVIVORS!" Bruce yelled again. “I WILL SMASH YOU ALL!”

" _Now_?" 

"Light him." Sif smashed the lantern they had stolen from the village, setting the cloak ablaze as Bruce let out a long, wordless roar. Every soldier standing outside scattered and ran for cover as Bruce pulled off the cloak and barreled forward. "Portcullis!" Thor yelled. Bruce caught it and ripped it off like it was paper, and Sif had to pull Thor down, lest the pieces of stone that had come free strike one of them before helping him up to the gate. The youngest prince was pinned against the door, utter terror on his face. "Give us the gate key," Thor told him.

"I have no gate key," the boy protested.

"Sif, cut his arms off."

"Oh, you mean this gate key?" The prince held out the little iron object, and Sif took it from him, shoving it into the lock and giving it one good twist before kicking the door open. The prince ran from them as Bruce shrank back down and they headed inside.

* * *

After Svadilfari’s departure, it became unnervingly clear just how much of a rush Loki was in to get the whole business over with, and Jane began to worry. Even the High Priest was too afraid of him to refuse Loki’s hissed command to go straight to the handfasting. Jane felt herself grow numb as the white silk ribbon was wrapped tightly around the hand Loki was gripping. And even more so when he told the priest to then skip to the pronouncement.

 

_As your hands are bound together now,_

_so your lives and spirits are joined in a union of love and trust._

_Above you are the stars and below you is the earth._

_Like the stars your love should be a constant source of light,_

_and like the earth, a firm foundation from which to grow._

_Let those who have been joined here never be parted,_

_by gods nor men, from this day to their last._

_So it is spoken. So you are wed._

 

“Escort the bride back to our suite, I’ll be there myself shortly,” Loki informed his parents, commanding them as if his father had already given him the crown. Jane looked down at her now free left hand. Not entirely free, granted; the ribbon was still there. She felt Loki’s cold hand take her by the chin and turn her face upwards to press a hard, claiming kiss on her lips.

It was corrupting, repulsive and completely devastating, and it left her hollow as the Queen began guiding her away. It didn’t even matter that neither she nor Loki had spoken the vows that usually made a wedding legitimate and binding. No one was going to question Loki, not when the King was mere hours away from abdicating in his favor. Worst of all, Thor hadn’t arrived. He hadn’t come back for her, and now… now, it was too late. If anyone noticed the tears forming in the Princess’s eyes, they chose not to mention it.

 


	8. The Honeymoon

Sif led them through the corridors, her sword and guard both up. They were in the wolf’s mouth now, they had to stay vigilant. They rounded a corner and came face to face with a squad of guards. And at the center of the group was a figure that had been burned into Sif’s memory for twenty years. Svadilfari.

“Kill the woman and the small one. Leave the third for questioning,” he ordered. The guards attacked, and Sif struck with a fury. Within a minute, all the guards were lying on the ground, and her hazel eyes were fixed back on her brother's murderer.

“Hello,” she said softly. “My name is Sif. You killed my brother. Prepare to die.” Svadilfari drew his own sword, as though he were ready to face her. Then he turned the other way and ran. 

_Coward_ , Sif thought, bolting after him, through the twist and turns of the palace. His footsteps faded as she heard a door slam, and saw the latch flapping as she made that turn. She flung herself against the wood, but it wouldn’t give. “Bruce!” she screamed. “ _Bruce, I need you!_ ”

“I can’t leave him alone!”

“ _He’s getting away from me! Bruce, please!_ ” A moment later, Bruce appeared and shifted, slamming his fist into the door and reducing it to splinters. “Thank you.” She started running again, this time down a spiraling flight of stairs. “Hello!” she yelled again. “My name is Sif! You killed my brother! Prepare to—”

A dagger lodged itself in her stomach and she stumbled back against the wall, gasping in pain. “No… no, Heimdall, I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Well, well,” Svadilfari sauntered towards her smugly. “If it isn’t the foolish little cunt I taught a lesson to all those years ago. Have you been chasing me this entire time, only to fail now? I think that might be the worst thing I’ve ever heard. How marvelous.” Sif glared up at him, reaching down to pull the dagger from her stomach and cover the wound. “Are you still trying to win?” he mocked, stabbing her in the direction of her heart. She deflected the blow to her shoulder. He tried again, and she repeated the block.

“Hello…” she whispered, raising the sword again. “My name is Sif… You killed my brother… Prepare to die….” She sliced at him, and he was so shocked that he barely managed to block her. “Hello. My name is Sif. You killed my brother. Prepare to die,” she repeated, striking again. “My name is Sif. You killed my brother. Prepare to die.”

“Stop saying that!”

“ _Hello! My name is Sif, you killed my brother, prepare to die!”_ she screamed, slicing into his cheeks as he had done to her twenty years ago, and pinning him against the opposite wall.

“No!”

“Offer me money.” She drove the blade into his left shoulder.

“Yes…”

“Power too, promise me that!” She stabbed him in the stomach.

“All that I have and more….”

“Offer my anything I ask for!”

“Anything you want….”

Sif skewered him straight through the chest, just as Heimdall had been, her eyes burning into his. “ _I want my brother back, you son of a bitch_.”

In that moment, Count Svadilfari died of fright.

* * *

Jane walked into the honeymoon suite, pulling her necklace from beneath her dress and bringing it to her lips. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I have to.” Hands shaking, she reached out to Loki’s desk, lifting up an ornately made dagger that had most likely been a gift from Svadilfari. “I’m sorry…” She placed the tip just above her heart, bracing herself to plunge it in.

“You know,” a familiar voice interrupted, “coming back from death is not a pleasant experience. I wouldn’t recommend it.” The knife slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor as she whirled around to see Thor lying on the bed with a weak smile on his lips. “Hello.”

“ _Thor_.” She rushed into his arms, kissing him with everything she had, and felt his arms wrap around her. He was here, she was home. “I knew it. I knew you’d come back…”

“You look…”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, kissing him again. “We can talk about all that later, once we’ve gotten out of here. Loki could be on his way here now, as far as he cares, I’m his wife now—”

“As far as he’s concerned?” Thor repeated. “Then you’re not?”

“No! No, we never actually spoke the vows,” she reassured him, but he didn’t look any less concerned. “What is it?”

“I daresay that would be me,” Loki’s voice came from the doorway. “How many times am I going to have to kill you before you actually stay dead?” he demanded, bending down to retrieve the dropped knife. “Tell me, how does this sound for a story? The Prince arrives too late to save his beloved wife from having her throat slit, but he _can_ still avenge her by slaying her killer—”

“ _No!_ ” Jane yelled, grabbing the hammer from Thor’s side and holding it up as Loki brought the knife down on them. The force threw him backwards into the wall, giving Thor the time to push himself up, take the hammer from Jane and slam it on Loki’s chest, rendering him immobile.

Loki gave both of them a very ugly sneer. “Go on, then, Thor. Kill me. I know you want to, I can see it burning in your eyes. Do it.”

“You deserve to die,” Thor agreed softly. “And I pity this kingdom, for a throne will suit you ill. I _should_ kill you, for everything you put me through, for Jane’s sake, for everyone’s. But if I do that, I am no better than you. It’s a sad thing indeed when a pirate has more honor than a Prince.” Jane bent down and grabbed the knife, before Loki could get it and throw it. She’d seen his aim and was taking no chances. The door opened again, revealing Natasha and the marksman, whose name Jane had never learned. Draped between them was Sif, a wound in her stomach bleeding heavily. Thor looked rather pleased to see all of them. “Steven’s idea, I take it?”

“You _did_ leave him in charge,” the marksman replied. “There’s always been that one part of the Code that he’s never been able to adhere to very well.”

“Traitors,” Loki growled. “I’ll see you all hanged for this. At bare minimum.”

“I’m terrified,” Natasha said dryly. “Can we go now, Captain? I’ve been dealing with the nuisance of skirts for months.”

“We’ll be on our way shortly. Barton, get us a line out of here. Natasha… say whatever parting words you want.”

“With pleasure—”

“Leave him alive.”

“You really are no fair.” Natasha scowled at him.

“I am still your commanding officer. And that was an order.” Thor said sharply. Barton took his bow off his shoulders and fired an arrow with a rope tied to its end out the open window.

“I’ll hunt you down,” Loki hissed as Natasha took the white silk ribbon and bound his hands to the nearest chair. “And you—” His poisonous green eyes locked on Jane. “I would have granted you the mercy of a quick death, but I know now that’s too good for a little cunt like you. Run if you like, but when I catch you, I will lock _you_ up and you will spend the rest of your life serving for _my_ pleasure.”

“Such language is not fit for a lady’s ears, nor for a Prince’s tongue,” Natasha scolded, plucking the knife from Jane and dragging it slowly across Loki’s forehead.

“Captain? You might want to look down in the courtyard. I think someone’s waiting for us,” Barton interjected.

“Bruce!” Sif cried in delight.

“I found horses,” Bruce’s voice wafted up. “Enough for all four of us… or six. The stables are enormous.”

“You did well,” Sif told him kindly. 

“I won’t let it go to my head.”

“Barton, will you please escort the Lady Jane down?” Thor said, keeping his eyes fixed on Loki.

“Yessir, Captain.” Barton saluted and offered Jane his hand. “Milady?” Jane let herself giggle as she took his hand, and Barton pulled her in close. “Hold on tight now.” He pulled a leather strap from his pocket and slung it over the rope before jumping off. Jane clung to him as they drew nearer and nearer the ground, not letting go until both her feet were on solid ground again.

* * *

Thor hadn’t trusted Natasha not to kill the Prince, so he stood there and watched as his red-haired subordinate made incision after incision on Loki’s body. “I will conquer every inch of land in this world,” Loki threatened through gritted teeth, “so there is nowhere you can make port safely. And when you do land, I will capture every last one of you and your crew, and I will kill you last, while I make your precious Jane watch.”

Thor was unable to stop himself grabbing Loki by the throat. “You will never touch her again. If you ever do come near her, I will not show you the mercy that I have today, I _will_ kill you. Natasha. Come on, we’re going.”

“One last thing.” The knife flashed once more, leaving a set of twin scars on Loki’s cheeks. “Now I’ll go.” The redhead easily hooked her arm over the rope and slid down. Sif and Thor looked at one another.

“You know, it’s odd,” the shield-maiden remarked. “I’ve been in the revenge business so long… now that it’s over, I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

“Have you ever considered piracy?” he offered with a small grin. “You’d make a wonderful Dread Pirate Surtur.” She smiled back at him as he lifted Mjolnir off Loki’s chest and slung it over the rope. “Shall we?” They made the drop together, Sif clinging on to Thor’s back.

Bruce had procured for them Loki’s four black chargers, as well as a snow-white horse and Tycho, whom Jane was already astride, the skirts of her wedding dress ripped open to better accommodate her. Natasha, Bruce and Clint had already taken three of the chargers. As Sif was still covering her wound, Thor helped her up onto the last charger before taking the white horse for himself.

“Let’s go!” Jane nudged Tycho forward towards the palace gate, and Thor laughed, pressing to keep pace with her. They escaped the walls, riding on to the freedom of the kingdom’s shores, where two more familiar faces were waiting for them.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Steven was clearly trying not to smile. “No more rescue attempts from now on, Captain. Please?”

“There’s nothing else I need to rescue,” Thor reassured him, dismounting and helping Jane down. “We can talk about all this once we’re in safer waters. I don’t know how long we have before someone cuts the Prince loose.”

“Are they coming with us?” James pointed at Sif and Bruce.

“Yes. They are. Now, move out.” This time, Thor’s tone was such that no one argued with him. Everyone got into the rowboat and they finally made the journey back to the _Revenge._ As soon as Thor made it on board, the crew swarmed him.

“Captain, you’re back!”

“So, that’s her?”

“What took you so long?”

“Where is it we go now—”

“Enough!” Thor interrupted. “I’ve had a long day, we all have. Samuel, I want you looking at Sif’s wounds immediately. Steven, James, set a course for Triskelion, get us on our way. I’m retiring to my quarters, and I don’t want to be disturbed. Is that clear?”

The crew nodded, returning to their posts without being told to do so, and Thor wrapped an arm tightly around Jane, leading her below deck to his cabin, and closing the door behind them tightly.

“So…” Jane looked up at him. “What happens now?”

“Whatever we want, I think,” he answered, reaching around her back to unlace her dress. The ripped silks fell to the floor, and she kicked off her slippers, latching her arms around his neck as he lifted her up and kissed her, carrying her to bed. His fingers gently traced the pendant and he moved to press his lips agains her. “What I want is to know if you’d care to finish what we started five years ago. Marry me, Jane?”

She gave him the most angelic, glorious smile he had ever seen in his life, leaned up and whispered three words in his ear.

“ _As you wish_.”

Thor kissed her soundly for that.

 


	9. Epilogue

“Nearly there now, come on, Jane.”  Thor let his wife grip his hand tighter as she panted and gasped. “I know you can do it, love, we’ve faced worse.”

“Then… you can… have the next one…” she choked out, squeezing until at least one of his fingers had cracked. He tried not to laugh at that.

A year since their escape from the land they had once called their home. A year since they had made it to the merchant city of Triskelion, and had been married. Sif had stayed aboard the _Revenge_ with the rest of the crew, having been given command of the ship. Bruce, on the other hand, had set off for elsewhere, saying there was someone he needed to find.

As it had turned out, Triskelion was the perfect place for two lovers on the run from a deranged Prince to disappear. In this city, no one knew anything of Jane or Thor, nor would anyone have particularly cared. They both loved it. Thor had used his time as Surtur to earn a place in a particularly well-off merchant’s shop, and Jane spent the time away from him happily exploring the city, learning about anything she cared to, and wearing what she liked.

But, the best part was that, every day, without fail, they would both be back in the little townhouse they had bought before sundown, and from that time on, they wouldn’t let anything separate them. They might choose to wander the city together, but more often they found entertainment indoors.

The product of that entertainment had a price Jane had been paying for nine months, and Thor found the least he could do was let her crush a few of his bones for it. “Nearly there now, I see the head,” Eir, the midwife told them. Jane yelled again, her face contorting as she pushed again. Thor pressed his forehead against her, kissing her cheek softly and murmuring in her ear.

“Nearly there, come on, love. Come on, Jane, you can make it through this.” Jane gave one last shout, and then her cries were replaced with the sound of a slap, and an infant’s wail.

“Quite a pair of lungs your boy has,” Eir remarked, passing over the now swaddled baby. “And a fine boy he is too, well done, Jane.”

“Thank you…” Jane’s smile was exhausted, but genuine as she took the newborn in her arms. Thor kissed her forehead before passing over Eir’s payment.

“Thank _you_ ,” he agreed. “There were moments when I worried.”

Eir smiled, accepting the coins. “Just give her some time to heal before you think about giving the little one any brothers or sisters. The first birth is rarely an easy one.”

“Again, thank you. If there’s anything else we need, we’ll let you know. Will you mind terribly if you have to show yourself out?”

“Not at all. Congratulations again, both of you.” Eir bustled out of the room, and Thor returned his attention to his wife and their son.

To Thor, all babies had always looked alike, perhaps because he’d never had any real time to examine them closely, and from a distance, they were all very similar, pink and tiny with fat little arms and legs and little to no hair. But this child, his and Jane’s… He could pick out the curve of Jane’s nose, and the way both their eyes squeezed shut, the thickness of their eyelashes. The blond fuzz covering his head, however, was entirely Thor’s.

Jane pulled down the neckline of her shift to let the baby suck from her breast, and as she did, the boy opened his eyes. They were not the warm chocolate color of Jane’s eyes that Thor had fallen in love with, nor were they his own electric blue. The baby’s eyes were a calm blue, like the sea after a storm, sweet and inviting. But they did have the stardust Jane had.

“Do you have a name for him?” Thor asked, wrapping an arm around Jane, and she nodded.

“I thought… I thought maybe we could name him after my father. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it’s a wonderful name.” Thor put his hand on the baby’s forehead, his thumb touching his son’s cheek. “Hello, Westley,” he said softly.


End file.
